Poison Fruit

“I know, I know!” Cody took a deep breath and wrestled himself under control. “That’s why I’m here.”

I swallowed. “Is this the long version of the speech?”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “It is. You know I haven’t been in a relationship since Caroline died—”

“You’ve dated a ton of women!” Not exactly a considerate response under the circumstances since he’d just referenced his Canadian werewolf girlfriend who was tragically killed five years ago, but it was true.

“Human women,” he said. “They don’t count.”

Being half human myself, I couldn’t help feeling a surge of indignation. My tail lashed, and a few knickknacks on my bookshelves rattled in protest. “I’m sure it would warm their hearts to hear it.”

Cody sighed. “I didn’t mean it like that. But it’s not the same, and you know it.”

Unfortunately, I did. The intensity of what I’d experienced with Cody was unlike anything else I’d ever known.

He shifted on the futon. “That’s why I never dated anyone for longer than a month. I never let it get serious. I never, ever misled anyone.”

“I never said you misled me,” I pointed out. “And you also never dated anyone longer than a month because they might start noticing a conspicuous pattern of absence around the full moon.”

“True.” Cody gave me the ghost of a smile. “But you . . .”

I waited. “What?”

His smile was gone. “You’re getting under my skin, Daise,” he said simply. “I wasn’t expecting it, but you surprised me.”

Oh, crap. My heart gave another painful hitch. “But.”

“But I have a duty to my clan.” Cody leaned forward and clasped his hands loosely between his spread knees. “I know it doesn’t seem fair, but it’s not just one of those arbitrary eldritch protocols. The entire survival of our species depends on our mating and breeding with our own kind.”

“I know,” I whispered. “But . . .” I didn’t have a “but.” There really wasn’t anything to say.

“My family’s given me a lot of leeway since Caroline’s death,” Cody said. “But at twenty-six, it’s time I started thinking about settling down with a suitable mate.”

“Are you sure?” I was just stalling now. “Twenty-six is still young.”

“Not when you run a higher than average risk of being shot by a hunter or a game warden,” he murmured.

That was how his Canadian werewolf girlfriend had died. “But . . .”

Cody’s gaze was candid and human. “But it’s not going to happen if we go any further with this, Pixy Stix.”

Despite everything, I made a face at the nickname. “Oh, gah!”

“See?” His lips curved into a rueful smile. “That’s one of the ways I know I’m getting in too deep. I find myself making up excuses to tease you.”

“Yeah, if we were six and eight again, you’d be pulling my pigtails on the playground at recess,” I muttered.

“Not at the risk of setting off your temper,” he said. “That old boiler at East Pemkowet Elementary was awfully touchy.”

“Don’t make me laugh,” I pleaded.

“Sorry.” Cody rubbed his hands over his face. “I really am, Daise. But I have to try to do the right thing.”

“So . . . what?” I asked him. “Does the Fairfax clan have someone in mind? Are you going to settle down with your second cousin?”

“No.” He dropped his hands to his knees. “We’re careful about bloodlines. With a relatively small gene pool, we have to be. Even wolves in the wild do their best to avoid intrafamilial breeding.” He hesitated. “Sometime in the next couple of months, the Fairfax clan will host a mixer.”

“A mixer?” I echoed.

“Yeah.” To his credit, Cody didn’t look happy about it. In fact, he looked fairly miserable.

“Okay.” I stood up. “Well, thanks for telling me.”

Cody stood, too. “Daisy . . .”

“What?” I spread my arms. “It is what it is, Cody. Like I said, you never misled me. I knew what you are.”

“I wish I could share it with you, Daisy,” he said to me. “All of it.” A distant, slightly dreamy expression crossed his face. “The call of the full moon rising, all silvery and bright in the night sky, tugging at muscle and sinew and bone. The incredible release of shifting, the incredible freedom of casting off your humanity and hunting with your packmates; howling to each other, howling back at the moon, howling for the sake of knowing you’re alive. The thrill of the chase and the glory of the kill, the scent of your prey’s fear in your nostrils and the taste of blood in your mouth. I wish I could. Because you’d love it, Daise. You’d fucking love it. But I can’t.”

“I know.” Well, I didn’t know about the whole taste-of-blood-in-your-mouth thing, but I knew what Cody meant. I’d love it if I were a werewolf, but I wasn’t and I never would be, which meant there was an intrinsic part of his life that I could never, ever share with him.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence.

“So I guess . . .” Cody cleared his throat. “That’s all I had to say. I’m sorry, Daisy. I really am.”

I nodded. “Are you going to be okay if we have to work together again?”